


The Rumour Come Out

by MadHatter13



Category: Nevermoor Series - Jessica Townsend
Genre: Child Neglect, Father-Daughter Relationship, Friendship, Gen, Hotel Deucalion, Jupiter North has adhd because i say so, Jupiter probably drinks far too much coffee, Parenthood, Rumors, Tabloids, Team as Family, Uncle-Niece Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:21:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26535022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadHatter13/pseuds/MadHatter13
Summary: “Well. Isn’t this a curious turn of events. Jupiter North, sworn lifelong nonpatron. Taking a candidate at last.” Frank rubbed his hands together, looking gleeful. “Oh, won’t people talk.”“People do love to talk.”-The Trials of Morrigan Crow---Jupiter’s newest house guest becomes the subject of some... unexpected rumours.Or,"THE RUMOR COME OUT! DOES IS CAPTAIN JUPITER NORTH HAS A LOVE CHILD?"
Relationships: Morrigan Crow & Jupiter North
Comments: 22
Kudos: 55





	The Rumour Come Out

Rumours spread like a strange noxious cloud in Nevermoor, and the Hotel Deucalion was no different. It seemed to pass through walls sometimes, without bothering passing through normally crucial components – like people for instance. It wasn‘t necessarily malicious, but it was persistent, and nosey. And no matter what, it would never bow to something as trivial as “facts” or “logic”.

Jupiter reflected on this as he walked through his establishment - although for the sake of accurately representing his state of mind, really he was also thinking about thirteen other things at the same time.

( _such as the way the carpet in the lobby had started to fray in the corner by the concierge‘s desk and that he should talk to Fenestra about having it replaced, and the way that lady over there had a cloud of green sitting on her left shoulder, indicating that someone was deeply annoyed with her, and that the transport authority had called again, and that Morrigan had looked a little downcast this morning, probably because he‘d had to leave again before he‘d even finished his coffee, which had been thoroughly adulterated with chocolate milk,_ and _that the second trial was looming –_ )

-anyway. He knew at least _one_ new rumour was going around the Deucalion, because of the Significant Glances the staff and some of the regulars had been shooting each other all day. He didn‘t know _what_ the rumour was, nor what it concerned. But he was expecting to be brought in on it any day now, because if anyone could say no to a juicy piece of gossip it certainly wasn‘t him. Not that he spread them; he just liked to collect them like a man who might pick out a series of delicious truffles at the chocolatier’s; savour every single one, and never forget it. After all, in his line of work, they may turn out useful.

If anything clinched his suspicions it was the way that the staff, huddled together in a conspicuous way that told of subterfuge, stopped talking immediately when he entered the kitchens. ‘And good afternoon to you lot, too!’ He said, striding to the pantry and reaching blindly into the middle shelf. ‘Martha, have cleaned up after breakfast already? I’m starving!’

‘I’ll do you up an omelette,’ said Martha, who had been whispering along with Kedgeree, Charlie, Frank and Dame Chanda ( _who was not part of the staff but had stayed for so long she had received a honorary certificate which hung somewhere in her suite_ ). Martha seemed to be trying her best not to look guilty, and since guilt came awfully naturally to her she was not succeeding too well.

‘That’s kind of you but I haven’t got the time. I’m going out again.’ His hand groped around until he found an entire bag of shelled pistachios, and he shoved a handful into his face, before putting it back on the shelf and heading for the coffee pot. Bits of his brain tingled in interesting ways; the result of too much caffeine and sugar and not enough real food since last night.

‘Again?’ Asked Charlie. ‘Want me to ready the carriage?’

‘No, I’m going by brolly rail. The Transport Authority wants another word.’ More than a word. What they _really_ wanted was a series of words, each contributing to an explanation on what in all hells’ names was going wrong with the Gossamer Line. He wished he had even the start of such an explanation, but all he really had was a nasty suspicion.

‘So, are you going to let me in on it?’ He said, picking up the coffee pot and reaching for a mug.

‘Pardon?’ Asked Kedgeree, fleetingly adjusting his spectacles, which was an obvious tell.

‘There’s a something that’s got everyone in a tizzy up there,’ he said, graciously pretending he hadn’t walked in on them discussing whatever it was. ‘What’s the scuttlebutt?’

Martha looked flustered, and bustled away, muttering something about her break being over. Charlie followed after her, which wasn’t in and of itself suspicious. But Kedgeree cleared his throat, and said, ‘If you will all excuse me, I must return to the front desk.’

Jupiter’s eyebrows rose until they nearly touched his hairline. ‘Was it something I said?’ He asked Dame Chandra and Frank, the only two remaining in the kitchen.

‘Not quite, darling,’ said Dame Chandra in a conciliatorily voice, although her eyes twinkled, meaning she found all of this very amusing. No further explanation seemed forthcoming.

‘Frank?’ Asked Jupiter. ‘ _You’ve_ never had trouble being straightforward with me.’

‘You’re not wrong,’ said the vampire-dwarf. ‘Gossip mill has been going mad all day.’ He grinned, showing his sharp teeth. ‘But it’s _you_ they’re gossiping about. Of course they’re not going to tell you what it’s about.’

Jupiter considered this without much concern. ‘I figured it was about time,’ he mused. ‘Although I can’t think of anything especially lively I’ve been responsible for lately.’ At least, any more than was usual.

Dame Chandra coughed delicately. ‘It also concerns our most recent full-time guest.’

_That_ made him pause, mid-way to pouring himself a cup of coffee. He should have expected that they would pick up on Morrigan as a person of interest sooner than later. Especially after the Stink showed up and more or less everyone found out she was in the country illegally. But they _couldn’t_ suspect the truth – it was too remarkable for anyone to just stumble upon it. He had been so careful – it _couldn’t_ all go wrong now...

Frank regarded his rictus of concentration, and decided to put him out of his misery. ‘Everyone thinks you’re secretly her father,’ he said, just a touch mischievously.

Jupiter dropped his mug on the floor.

* * *

In retrospect, that had been a mistake. So was being indignant about it afterwards.

‘They think I’m _what?’_ He said flatly, ignoring the pile of porcelain shards at his feet.

Frank and Dame Chandra both stared at him. ‘It’s just a stupid rumour,’ said Frank. ‘What are you so bothered about?’

With dawning horror, Jupiter had the distant realization that this conversation wasn’t private. If they thought there was any chance of anything interesting, Martha and Kedge would be listening by the door. And, god bless them, they were excellent people, but he couldn’t be sure what they’d keep quiet about and what they’d reveal to others by accident.

‘Of course I’m not her – ‘

‘Listen, I wasn’t accusing you of anything, I’m just the messenger,’ said Frank, raising his hands in surrender. But Jupiter could see on his face that he thought he’d found a thread to pull and would now gleefully keep doing so until the whole sweater unravelled.

‘Not that it would be a bad thing,’ reflected Dame Chandra, still twinkling. ‘I always thought the place could do with some livening up, in that respect.’

Jupiter looked at his watch with dismay. He’d be late if he didn’t leave now. ‘I don’t have time for this,’ he said, heading towards the door. He paused there, hearing the listeners outside scramble to leave quietly, and pointed a stern finger at the two of them. ‘ _No-one_ mention this to Morrigan.’

‘Lips are sealed, boss,’ drawled Frank. Dame Chandra merely gave a graceful nod.

Jupiter left.

He _did not_ have time for this.

* * *

As far as he could figure out, the logic ran something like this:

  1. He had never taken a candidate before. Then, without warning, he had
  2. Despite the whole plan being to get Morrigan into the Wunderous Society, it seemed to everyone that she did not have a Knack (that group of speculators included Morrigan herself)
  3. She was an illegal alien, and only the Wunsoc trials were keeping her from being deported from the country
  4. Sure, alright, everyone knew that patrons were invested in their candidates’ wellbeing. But if she didn’t have a Knack, and was bringing him to the attention of the police, what possible reason could Captain Jupiter North have to bring a strange child into the country, up to and including letting her live in his house? Er, hotel. Why would he care about her at all if she was just a stranger?
  5. In fact, was entering her in the trials just an elaborate scheme to get her citizenship before she could be deported from the country?



Somehow, someone, _somewhere_ had added all those things up and come to the conclusion that Jupiter had secretly had an illegitimate child somewhere in the Wintersea Republic. The worst thing was, Jupiter could kind of see how they’d gotten there, if he put his head to one side and squinted. But it only made any kind of sense if a) you didn’t know Jupiter at all and b) _definitely_ didn’t know Morrigan.

And because he hadn’t had the brains to react like it was a bad joke, even people who _did_ know him were now under the impression there was a grain of truth in there somewhere. Well, it was the least of his problems, so he’d just ignore it until something more exciting came along and everyone forgot about it.

Hopefully.

* * *

Turns out _that_ wasn’t about to happen anytime soon.

He finally had a day off. And by that he really meant that he was waiting on an answer from one of the potential signers of the Pact; one who liked to leave people waiting, probably to make them sweat. Well, Jupiter was sweating, but that could be blamed on the midday sun bathing the rooftop of the Deucalion, rather than nerves. He’d sit on this chair until he broken a new world record in Alarming Amounts of Freckles, and drink this mimosa, in peace –

‘So,’ said Frank.

... in _peace_ –

‘I’ve known you a long time, but not long enough to know if you were in the Wintersea Republic twelve years ago,’ Frank continued. He was laid out beneath a parasol, wearing an incredible amount of sunscreen (marketed as “SPF You Would Not Believe It!”), along with a face-masque, and a cucumber slice over each eye.

Jupiter briefly glanced up and over the brim of his sunglasses to see who was around, but they were alone at this side of the pool. On the other side, Hawthorn was showing Morrigan and Jack how to best accomplish a Phoon – a move that seemed to have all the worst characteristics of both a cannonball and a belly flop.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he said, and sipped his mimosa.

‘Didn’t think it was your style, having kids willy-nilly,’ said Frank. When Jupiter didn’t answer, he raised one cucumber slice to look at him. ‘You’re not going to deny it?’

Jupiter snorted. ‘Why? _You’ve_ clearly made up your mind.’

‘You did just as much when we brought it up the other day,’ said Frank, letting go of the cucumber and going back to lounging in a thoroughly stylish vampire way. ‘Dame Chanda said so, she said, ‘methinks the gentleman dost protest too much.’’

‘And you went with that instead of thinking about it for five whole minutes.’ Jupiter is aware he’s being prickly, but he finds the whole thing more irksome than he probably should.

‘It’s true you don’t look much alike,’ conceded Frank. ‘But if anyone is living proof that genetics is a clown circus, it’s me.’

‘We look _less_ than nothing alike,’ says Jupiter. ‘I’d rather be prepared to believe that Inspector Flintlock was related to a giant swamp rat.'

‘That’s cheating,’ said Frank. ‘They already have a complete family resemblance.’

Jupiter laughed.

Frank said, with uncharacteristic sincerity and lack of drama, ‘Look, we just figured we’d let you know, since you were so out of sorts about it. That if it were true, we weren’t going to judge you for it. Or, gods help, the kid.’

Jupiter paused. He sometimes forgot he employed remarkable people, but never for too long. ‘That’s... real decent of you. But you’ve got it all wrong, Frank. She’s the spitting image of her father, and I know, because I’ve met him. And if Morrigan is lucky, she’ll never have to look that appalling waste of space in the face again.’

He knew his tone had enough acid to spit lacework in a sheet of steel, but since he was being truthful, he didn’t care. Frank peeked at him again from under his impromptu vegetative sunglasses.

‘Well,’ he said. ‘Then it’s just as well she’s here, then.’

The conversation is, thankfully, interrupted when the two of them are flooded by the tidal wave created when three children Phoon’d into the pool all at once.

* * *

Poor Jack. Jupiter can’t fault him for leaving his room without his eye patch on – two in the morning is historically not a time when you are likely to run into a score of people. But it must have been a terrible shock for him to see Mog as she truly is, with the full power of his Knack. Jupiter gently guides him to his room, and digs out a spare eye patch from his desk, which Jack puts on with a shaky sigh of relief. Thankfully Jupiter had already had a pot of tea up there, having had a late night himself. He had been busy with the ever-diminishing list of candidates to sign the Pact that was the only thing that would let the Wunderous Society allow Morrigan to stay in Nevermoor.

Jack stares into the distance as he takes a long drink from his teacup. Then he says, with no small degree of terror, ‘What _is_ she?’

Ah. Exactly what he’d been hoping to avoid.

Jupiter hummed as if seriously contemplating the question and drank from his own teacup. ‘Hm, eleven year old girl, about 4’4’’, likes furniture shaped like cephalopods, cheats at poker. This morning you argued about whether eggs were an inherently stupid breakfast food.’

Jack groans. ‘Uncle Jove, I’m _serious_. What I saw –‘

‘So am I, Jack. I’m not being facetious, I’m reminding you of a few important details you need to keep in mind, because of what I am about to tell you.’

Jack takes it... Not well, but better than he might have. Once Jupiter has explained properly, and emphasized the point that _no-one_ was inherently evil at age eleven, no matter the ghost stories attached to their world-altering abilities, Jack looks thoughtful and apprehensive and also a little relieved.

‘Now what is that yellow sparkle I see by your right ear?’ Says Jupiter. It is nice, sometimes, to have one other Witness in the world who understands exactly what he means by that. ‘The purple cloud I expected, but not the yellow.’

Jack tucks his chin in, like he does when he’s embarrassed. ‘Nothing. It’s just a lot to take in, is all. I mean, she’s such a tiny thing, it’s hard to believe she could bend reality to her will, and stuff.’

‘And stuff,’ Jupiter nods. ‘Still doesn’t explain that relieved look on your face. Did you worry she was instead a god walking among us? That would have been an even greater disaster, although even I can’t imagine it.’

Jack somehow contrives to look even more embarrassed, but he knows he won’t get away with changing the subject when Jupiter insists. He is the only one who can always know what is going on with his nephew, and in theory Jack could have no secrets from him. He _does_ , and Jupiter is sure to let him know he does, because to do otherwise would be a terrible invasion of privacy. But they have an unspoken agreement that when Jupiter really insists, Jack tells him things, and so he only ever insists when he thinks he must.

‘It’s just, you know,’ his nephew mutters. ‘Everyone’s been talking behind your back. I’m just glad she hasn’t secretly been my cousin this whole time.’ He peters off, awkwardly.

Jupiter is at the verge of throwing his hands up in exasperation because, really, he expected this sort of nonsense from just about anyone else, but not from _Jack_. But then he stops, and Jupiter looks at his nephew – _really_ looks at him, like only a Witness, but more importantly a family member could.

‘You have no reason to be envious of her,’ he told Jack. ‘Even if it was true – which it isn’t, let me underline and highlight that for you several times, because this whole story is starting to get on my nerves – I will never stop being your uncle, Jack. The Deucalion will always be your home.’

Jack scratches his nose and avoids his eyes, and makes a half-hearted scoffing sound, but Jupiter can tell he’s listening, and is glad to hear it. He decides to take his chance.

‘But even without the whole Wundersmith thing... I could not send her back home even if I wanted to.’ He thinks of that depressing house, and grimaces. ‘Morrigan doesn’t have anyone in the entire world, aside from me, and sometimes I worry she doesn’t even realize she has that much.’ He rubs the bridge of his nose with a sigh.

Jack murmured something.

‘Sorry?’

‘I said ‘and me’. I guess. And everyone in the hotel.’ Jack wouldn’t quite meet his eye. ‘She may be insufferable, but she’s just a kid, I suppose.’

Jupiter finds a huge grin eclipsing his frown, and Jack only protests nominally when his uncle brings him in for a bear hug.

* * *

Here is the terrible thing about being a Witness. You can never turn it off. Oh, you can learn to filter what you see so that it doesn’t drive you mad, but the big stuff is always in full view. The greater the signature of the emotion, the more front-and-centre it is. Sometimes it can be wonderful; He recalls seeing a friend on her wedding day turning from nervous, tired corkscrews of orange to blazing gold when her wife-to-be burst into her dressing room and told her they were eloping and hang the ceremony, for instance. Sometimes it’s terrible; somebody’s grief or malice hanging around them like a quiet hurricane.

Corvus Crow is a black hole. The way he is entirely devoid of love towards his own daughter is like a lead weight that distorts his entire personality, and the space around him. It is not even hate. He just regards her as an obstacle, an inconvenience.

Not even the so-called curse could excuse it. Had Corvus had the moral fibre of a rat he would have seen it for what it was and loved his daughter regardless. But he found it a convenient scapegoat for his heartlessness and treated her accordingly. Behind all of Morrigan’s brilliance, Jupiter can still see it all piled up; a real chip on her real shoulder.

He wanted nothing more than to knock the man out with a chair, the first time he meet him, and the second time it is only the limits of the Gossamer Line that keeps him from acting on it.

Yes, he took Morrigan back to that dreadful house. He couldn’t refuse her, and she deserved what little explanation he could give her, for now. Of course, she wouldn’t stay at Crow manor, if only because the only worse option available would be to hand her right over to the Wundersmith. But the thing is, that if she had _really_ wanted it, and if it were safe, and in her best interest, he could not have said no to her, no matter how much it would have broken his heart. He just wants what’s best for her. Even if that meant he’d never see her again.

He feels... incredibly bad at this, as he follows her out of the house where she can only ever be a ghost. He _should_ offer a hug, offer comfort, but it is increasingly coming to his own attention that he is not the ideal parental figure, not by a long shot.

Well, he’s damn well going to have to be good _enough_.

‘We’re your family now,’ he tells her, and takes her Home.

* * *

It’s such a relief, once everything is done. Well – not _everything_. He still hasn’t found the last candidate to sign the pact. But he’s cornered the Elders into agreement, even if it’s only out of morbid curiosity and their perception that all of this constitutes damage control. And he doesn’t have to lie to Morrigan anymore. That’s... a relief. He didn’t especially like to, and maybe he didn’t need to, but he’d made his choice and he’d just have to live with it. He had worried she might hate him for lying to her – well, for not telling the truth, more accurately. But that truth itself appeared to have been too great a shock for her, to think too hard about his deception. He feels that maybe he might have been happier if she _had_ torn his head off. Metaphorically.

And then there is Ezra Squall. The Wundersmith. Jupiter does not even want to grace him with the title. _He_ has a _deeply_ upsetting interest in Morrigan, and if Jupiter could drown him in the deepest ocean, somewhere far away where he could not crawl out and ever be _near_ to her again, he would do it without hesitation.

But he feels something approaching peace, or more like delight, when he watches her down in the lobby with Hawthorne. They’re spying on a couple of guests and trying not to reveal their hiding place by giggling. Jack is a little way away, scoffing at what he would probably call childish antics, but Jupiter can tell it’s only a matter of time before he joins them.

There is an enormous feline rumble that makes the floor vibrate, signalling Fen’s arrival. People are of the misconception that cats (and the wunimals that resemble them) purr only when comfortable, but really they do so in a variety of situations. Jupiter is a connoisseur of Fen’s purring and this particular one always makes him feel like he’s being laughed at.

Fenestra, bless her, does not beat around the bush ever, even if following her train of thought could make any human winded. She sits back next to where Jupiter leans against the banister and says, ‘When Jack first came around I thought you would be bad at being a parental figure.’

‘Oh, thank you,’ he drawls in response. ‘Nice to see you have faith in me.’

She ignores this. ‘I guess I’ll concede to being wrong. You do things differently than other two-leggers but you’ve done well by him. But I never thought you’d bring up a kit all of your own volition.’

Jupiter leans fully into the deep groan that issues from his mouth and tops it off by throwing his head back. ‘Fenestra, not you, too! I thought Frank had passed it on, you should know we’re not related!’ Thankfully, there is no-one around to listen to their conversation; the balcony is empty.

The Magnificat snorts explosively. ‘Who said anything about genetics? You know, I can never decide if all bipeds are so absurd, or if it is just you. Always fluttering about without a direction.’

‘You may have us confused with birds.’

‘Well, what is man but featherless chicken? Don’t be dull, Jupiter, I could have smelled if you were that girl’s fourth cousin twice removed, the minute she walked through the door. Never mind if you were her father by blood.’

Jupiter finds himself feeing faintly embarrassed even if he can’t say why. He clears his throat. ‘Well, there you have it.’

‘You don’t listen, as per usual. I said ‘by blood’, didn’t I?’

Jupiter doesn’t say anything, but the look on his face speaks volumes. Fen wrinkled her nose at him. ‘Oh, bother. By the smell of it you are having an idiotic thought of some sort. Dare I ask what it is?’

A Magnificat did not have a Witness’ ability for sniffing out secrets, but they came close. Probably the only reason this didn’t make them a total menace was because they seldom cared. ‘I don’t deserve to call myself – anything, Fen, when it comes to her. I mean, sure, it was for her own good, but I’ve lied to her an awful lot, and ripped her away from home. Although that home was completely dreadful in almost every respect. And it was a life and death situation. And –‘

‘Oh, stop it, you clearly know you made the right decision. You just want to beat yourself up about it in case that makes you look noble.’ 

‘You’re probably right.’ He sighed, and pushed off of the banister, and began a saunter towards the stairs. Fen stopped him with a word.

‘Jupiter.’

‘Fenestra?’

‘It’s not about ‘deserving’. It’s about earning it.’

* * *

_THE RUMOR COME OUT! DOES IS CAPTAIN JUPITER NORTH HAS A LOVE CHILD?_

The noise he makes when he reads the headline is somewhere between a squawking chicken and Fenestra at a wrestling match. He wrenches the tabloid from Dame Chanda’s hands, eyes going mile a minute down the page. ‘ _Where did you get this?!’_

‘ _I_ certainly didn’t buy it,’ she retorted with the air of someone who had far higher standards for gossip journalism. ‘And keep your hair on, darling, I think you know hardly anyone would take that seriously. Especially when there are even more grammar mistakes in the actual article.’

‘Has Mog seen this?!’

‘Of _course_ not, Jupiter. I’m not an idiot.’ Dame Chanda leans back on the blue velvet sofa in her private suite and picks up her cocktail glass. ‘Have a seat, darling, you look terribly frazzled.’

Jupiter groans, and collapses with far less dignity in the seat next to her. ‘I thought all of this nonsense would blow over after she got into Wunsoc...’

‘Is it nonsense?’ Asked Dame Chanda casually.

‘Yes! I don’t have any illegitimate children running around!’

Dame Chanda shrugs regally. ‘Just thought I’d ask.

‘The last thing I want is for her to hear about it. She’d be _mortified_.’

‘It would have made a decent cover, though,’ Chanda pointed out. ‘For whatever else it is you’re hiding.’

‘Sorry, I couldn’t quite hear you just then,’ Jupiter says carefully. Chanda lets this pass; they would both prefer he didn’t tell her an outright lie to her face.

‘I’m just saying; if you told everyone you were her father, you could probably get her some kind of citizenship, and the Stink would be driven off.’ It’s not a completely unexpected point for her to make. Despite what most people assume, Dame Chanda is an eminently practical woman.

‘Although it may not seem like it, I _do_ actually care about my reputation,’ Jupiter says. ‘And it would be slander against her – deceased – mother not to mention it would be asking her to live a lie. Mog has more than enough to deal with without me muddying the waters for her.’

‘Well then.’ Chanda sips her cocktail. ‘Then just let me take care of this, darling.’

‘...You’re not going to order a hit on anyone, are you?’ He doesn’t think she would, but Jupiter has heard some things about some of her gentleman friends, particularly Mr. Tuesday.

Dame Chanda laughs her clear, tinkling laugh, and on the window sill a squirrel is momentarily mesmerized. ‘Really, Captain North, what do you think of me? No, darling, the best way to fight rumour is to make it into a needle in a hay stack.’

Jupiter catches on. ‘You mean make up so many ridiculous rumours that no-one would believe them for a second?”

‘Precisely, darling. Now, how do you like the sound of tipping off a tabloid that you’re having an affair with the lead bassist of Lizardmania?’

* * *

The smoke in the saloon was Arctic thyme and birch (mean to encourage an adventurous spirit), but despite that the mood was mellow. Jupiter and Morrigan played cards. Jupiter tried his damndest not to feel an urge for vengeance whenever he lost to an eleven year old, and utterly failed. Frank was characteristically lounging on the sofa, but being out-lounged by Dame Chanda, discussing the evening entertainment schedule at the hotel for the next week. Kedgeree and Martha happened to have their break at the same time and were hiding in the room from a particularly harrowing guest staying in the Slightly Garish Pink Suite; An older lady who did not shrink from bothering people even in the middle of their lunch break.

‘She’s horrid,’ said Martha with a shiver to Morrigan, who looked up from her cards. Jupiter used the opportunity to try to catch a look at them, and she pulled them closer to her face with a glare. ‘Thankfully she only stays here about once a year, but I dread it every time.’

‘Madame Lamprey is a wee bit more... Demanding than most guests,’ admitted Kedge, it being as far as he was willing to go in impoliteness to anyone who wasn’t a police officer. ‘She keeps calling the front desk demanding why her roomservice has not arrived yet, normally two minutes after ordering.’

‘She keeps _prodding me_ when she thinks I’m late with the housekeeping,’ said Martha, making a face. ‘And the cook was nearly in tears because she was livid that her boiled eggs weren’t just so.’

Jupiter rolled his eyes. ‘I’ll have a word.’

‘By which you mean you’ll flirt with her so she’ll stop being such a bi- so annoying,’ said Dame Chanda, censoring herself on account of the child in the room.

Martha giggled, and Mog made a Scandalized squawk, but Jupiter shrugged. ‘All for the good of the Deucalion, dear lady.’

‘Isn’t she twenty years older than you?’ Frank piped up with a grin.

‘So? It’s not like I’m taking her out on the town, I’m just trying to flatter her so she’ll be slightly less of a nuisance. A person like that likes to be flattered.’

‘I remember her from back when I first started performing,’ said Dame Chanda with an eyeroll of her own. ‘Half the singers were scared stiff of her because she would complain to the management whenever she perceived a song as even slightly risqué.’

‘Better keep her away from the roof tonight, then,’ said Frank.

‘How come?’ Asked Jupiter, looking up. Morrigan took the chance to pinch a card from the bottom of the pile, and he pretended not to notice for the time being.

‘Don’t you recall? Fleming Gallo is performing. You know, the comedian? We booked him for an all-ages show in the afternoon, and then an adult-only one at 10pm.’

‘An _adult_ show?’ Asked Morrigan with interest.

‘I’ll be perfectly frank with you, Mog,’ said Jupiter. ‘It just means the same routine as the earlier show, except with more swearing. And you can get that for free if you catch Fenestra in a bad mood.’

‘He’s not wrong,’ admitted Frank. ‘But I only book the best, of course. If he doesn’t have people rolling in their seats by the sixth minute, he’s never stepping through the front door again.’

‘Why the sixth minute?’ Asked Kedge.

Frank sniffed. ‘I don’t have to explain my process to anyone.’

‘Send her a complimentary bottle of champagne around 8.30, Kedge,’ said Jupiter. ‘She’ll be out like a light by 9.30, if I’m any judge.’

‘Is he any good?’ Asked Martha. ‘Only I have the evening off, and I thought I might invite Charlie.’

Frank cackled. ‘He’s great! My exact preferred brand of comedy.’

‘So... Spooky?’ Dame Chanda hazarded.

Frank raised an eyebrow at her. ‘Am I a joke to you?’

Jupiter raised a placating hand. ‘I’m sure you’re right, Frank. I think I caught a few minutes of his show a few years ago.’

‘Oh, was it on his _Darling Ghouls_ tour? That one had some of his best stuff –‘

‘Frank, don’t you think it would be spoiling it if _you_ went and repeated his jokes to us now?’ Said Martha patiently.

‘No, it’s fine, he never recycles his material – god, there’s a great set he used to do about his mother, you know. She wasn’t cruel or anything, but apparently she didn’t want kids so she used to just hand him to complete strangers in the street and then _walk off_ in the hope they’d just keep him.’ Frank cackled despite the looks on some of their faces. ‘Hey, just because it doesn’t land when _I_ tell it doesn’t mean I’m wrong. The whole point is that it’s _so_ depressing it goes right back around to being funny!’

Morrigan laughed, utterly genuine.

‘See? See?’ Said Frank, briefly sitting up properly in his chair. ‘A girl after my own heart.’ He made a toast with his wine glass to her. It contained _some_ sort of red liquid.

Morrigan laid down a card, and Jupiter groaned in dismay, before laying down a much worse offering. ‘I remember how my nanny used to do that,’ she said, still grinning.

There was a brief pause of confusion. ‘Sorry?’ Asked Frank.

‘Well, barely, to be honest. But Father told me about it when I was older.’ She put down another card. Jupiter quietly laid down his own.

Martha had a look on her face rather like a startled goose. At the moment it was comical, but if things did not turn around, someone was going to get bit. ‘He can’t have been happy about that!’

‘No, he fired her after he found out, I think.’

‘Good!’

‘He said it would look bad to the neighbours.’

Kedge made a noise, but Morrigan was so focused on the card game that she did not notice. ‘Of course, the next one wasn’t much better, but at least she didn’t demand to sit in the next room when she was tutoring me, like Ms. Ornerod. He didn’t mind _that_ , but he told her to speak up, since he paid her too much for me not to be able to hear my lessons.’ Now she did look up, and saw all of their staring faces. ‘What is it?’ She shrank back a little. ‘Do I have something on my face?’

‘Did he not think it was terrible of them?’ Asked Dame Chanda distantly.

Morrigan looked confused. ‘I don’t think so – I’m pretty sure he said I deserved as much for being such a burden.’

‘ _You?_ A burden-‘ Began Martha, outrage in her voice.

‘Mog, would you be a gem and let whoever’s on desk duty know about that complimentary champagne for Madame Lamprey?’ Asked Jupiter, surfing his voice smoothly over Martha’s. ‘Seeing as it’s almost seven.’

Morrigan would normally have questioned such a transparent effort to get her to leave the room, but this time she just nodded and jumped down from her chair. As soon as the door closed behind her, Frank took a deep breath.

‘Jove, what the _fu-_ ‘

‘It’s fine if you lose your head about it,’ said Jupiter. ‘Just don’t do it _at_ her, alright?’

‘But that’s not, not normal, Jupiter!’ Said Chanda, shocked even if it was in a genteel kind of way. ‘What kind of a parent treats their child like that?’

‘Well, a bad one, usually.’

‘You know what I mean!’

‘I had no idea,’ said Martha quietly. ‘Poor thing – she’s such a sweet girl...’

‘She could be an absolute hellion and she still wouldn’t _deserve_ it,’ said Frank harshly. ‘Darkness above, Jupiter, you told me her father was an ass, but I didn’t think –‘

Jupiter sighed. ‘Yes, but I wasn’t going to tell you all behind her back. You didn’t know how bad it was, but worse yet I don’t think _she_ realizes how bad it was.’

‘I do not suppose it would be possible to pay a visit to the gentleman?’ Asked Kedgeree in his normal fashion, but in a tone that said that such a visit would involve prying Corvus’s kneecaps off with a crowbar.

‘Believe me, Kedge, if it were a possibility I would do it myself.’ Not that it would improve things at all for Morrigan, but it would make Jupiter feel better, at least for a short while. He stood up. ‘Try not to pester her about it, will you? She deserves sympathy, but I don’t think she could take pity.’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ murmured Frank. ‘I’m glad you picked her up, Jove.’

‘Me, too.’

He leaves them to no doubt continue the conversation without him, but he’s noticed that the door did not quite click shut to the saloon. He’s not really surprised when he finds Morrigan a little way down the hallway, hands folded tightly behind her back, trying to look as if she wasn’t eavesdropping.

He doesn’t know what to say, so he just shrugs. ‘Sorry about that.’

Morrigan gives up on acting innocent. ‘I guess that was worse than I thought, then.’ She doesn’t look shattered about this, just somewhat concerned and uncomfortable.

He saw no point in lying to her. ‘Yeah, it was pretty bad.’

She looked down at the carpet with a frown. ‘Oh. Do you think it will at least make me funny?’

‘Who says you have to be funny? You’re far too clever to have to rely on that to get on.’ He smiled at her, and she smiled back.

He walks her back towards the lobby, but it’s something that’s clearly bothering her, and a moment later she says, ‘One of the social workers – I can’t remember her name, they changed every visit – she said that bad things happened to people to make them better. Or more humble anyway. So... maybe because my family was awful, it might make me strong enough to not give in to the Wundersmith?’ She lowered her voice just then, in case anyone might hear his name, although the hallway was empty.

Jupiter felt full to bursting with words. _Beginning_ with the fact that being mistreated could _easily_ have turned anyone bitter enough to become a vengeful being of godlike power, so rolling the dice on it making them _good_ was irresponsible _at best_. Or the fact that that social worker sounded much like the self-important and pious people uncomfortable with the suffering of others, and who wanted them to be _grateful_ for the cruelty rained upon them. But he didn’t want to get it wrong and somehow make her believe it was in _any_ way her fault, and so he stopped in the middle of the hallway, and turned to put a hand on this little girl’s chipped shoulder, and knelt so she had to look him in the eye when he said: ‘Mog – you are brilliant and clever and really unreasonably brave sometimes, and likely the most fantastic person I will ever have the privilege of meeting. But _none of that_ is thanks to your gullible neighbours, or your harebrained tutors, or your self-absorbed step mother, or –‘ He swallows, ‘Corvus Crow. And whether they believed the fantastically stupid idea that Eventide’s children were cursed or not, none of it would ever be your fault.’

Morrigan swallowed thickly. ‘Even though I’m –‘ She couldn’t say the word _Wundersmith,_ but it hung in the air.

‘Even then. Even then, you’re a person like the rest of us, Mog.’

Unexpectedly, she hugs him, tight. He hugs her back, trying to communicate everything she might not believe through only words.

What irks Jupiter about those stupid rumours is this: The assumption rests on the fact that people can’t fathom why he would care enough about some random kid off the street to go to all this trouble for her. That’s where they have it wrong. She’s not some random kid – she’s Morrigan, his Mog, brilliant and sarcastic and insecure and brave and funny and a bit of a brat and, most importantly, just a kid, who has been convinced her whole life that she’s a curse on other people. Forget about the Wundersmith thing, how could he _not_ care about her, especially when no-one else seemed to have made the effort? Which was ridiculous, because it was easy as pie to love her.

Then he picks her up and stretches to his full height before turning her upside down, causing her to squeal and giggle and kick her little feet against his ribcage. Carrying her down the hallway before depositing her in one of Fenestra’s laundry baskets (where she surfaces from the pile of towels laughing but trying to look mad at him) he thinks to himself that stupid rumours are the least of what he’s willing to bear to keep her around.

* * *

Hawthorne is at the dining room door, waiting for Morrigan to finish her toast, nearly tap-dancing with frustration. ‘Come on come on come _on_ ,’ he needles, ducking to the side as Martha enters to clear the table.

‘Calm down, it’s not like we have to be anywhere on time,’ Morrigan says, but still chugs the rest of her orange juice.

‘Yes! And that’s why we have to hurry!’ Proclaimed Hawthorne. ‘I am in a terrible rush to go and do nothing at all, and with speed!’

‘Don’t keep him waiting, Mog,’ Jupiter says, pouring himself a second cup of coffee. ‘He looks as if he’s about to vibrate straight through the floor.’

She only rolls her eyes. ‘I’m going, I’m going...’

‘Where _are_ you going that’s so exciting?’ Asks Kedgeree.

Morrigan blushes a bit. ‘Only to the park. Hawthorne wants to see how far we can climb up the trees.’

‘Oh, do be careful!’ Martha exclaims.

‘A stellar idea, Mog,’ says Jupiter. ‘Have fun getting into trouble, the two of you.’

‘See you later,’ Martha says, taking Morrigan’s plate and cup and putting it on her cart.

Morrigan nods, already halfway to the door and the anxiously waiting Hawthorne. ‘See you later Martha, Kedge, Uncle Jupiter.’ And then she’s gone, chattering with Hawthorne all the way down the hall.

‘What a dear,’ comments Kedgeree, picking up the coffee pot to take it for a refill. Then he catches a glance of his employer. ‘Sir? Are you quite alright?’

‘I’m fine,’ says Jupiter, blinking rapidly and almost certainly a little red in the face. When did it get so dusty in here?

Martha gasps in realization, and puts her hands to her mouth. ‘Oh – she called you – ‘ Her eyes are big and misty.

‘It’s nothing!’ Jupiter exclaims. ‘Probably she misspoke!’ He avoids Kedge’s gaze, which is _far_ too knowing. ‘What are you standing around for?’ Then he unfolds the newspaper next to his plate with a flourish, and hides behind it.

Martha and Kedge exchange gleeful little smiles, and go on about their business. They won’t tell anyone if their employer’s voice had sounded suspiciously close to cracking, just then, or how damp his eyes may have been.

Jupiter, for his part, may have that little bit more of a spring in his step, for the remainder of the day.

**Author's Note:**

> I love this series with all my heart and most of all that ambigious-parental-figure-and-child relationship Jupiter and Mog have. Couldn't find a whole lot of fic on that note so of course my brain didn't rest until I'd written 7K of it myself.


End file.
